The night before I took the test, I had dropped my son Taylor off for a planned overnight with my Mom. She had complained of a headache (which was nothing new to her) but insisted that she wanted him for the night as she had been looking forward to the time with her "little man Tate". On Sunday when I picked him up, she still wasn't feeling any better and decided to seek treatment at Wilson. She was eventually transported to a bigger hospital, where she was diagnosed with a brain aneurysm, and scheduled for surgery toward the end of the week.
My brother and I were visiting her one night before the surgery. She firmly reminded us that her wishes were to be cremated, and then do whatever you want with the ashes. I remember some awkward conversation about not needing to think about that, and her reminding me again that she did not wish to have the worms crawl in and out. Desperately wanting to change the subject I blurted out that I was pregnant. She smiled and asked if it was a girl, could we name her Samantha? I immediately declined.
The night before her surgery Mom called to tell me she loved me. I remember standing at a set of bunk beds with my head bowed and my heart breaking during the moment of silence we shared. I was frozen in fear, although she was not voicing the words, she knew what was to come.
Her surgery lasted many hours beyond what it was supposed to, and we struggled to find any news. Finally the doctor came out to tell us that the aneurysm had blown, and that he had run in to complications, and expected Mom to remain unconscious for at least another day. At the end of the following night she had still not been moved from the post surgery ward to a room, as she had not 'awoken' in post op. I drove to the hospital anyway and the nurse allowed me to sit with her in 'recovery'. She was still and lifeless. As I sat in the dimly lit room, I remember admiring her hands, and how similar ours were. I held her hand and told her to wake up, she lightly squeezed my hand. I visited awhile longer before driving home that night feeling hopeful.
On the following day the hospital moved her to her own room. She was categorized as being in a coma. Additional tests on the following days showed signs that the damage to her brain was beyond that which they originally thought and that the machines were keeping her alive. There was a meeting with the family on how to move forward and a choice was made to let her go, after the rest of the family arrived later that day.
I walked out of that room, straight to the window and peered out. I do not know what I was looking for, but it was in that moment that I knew the baby's name would be Sarah Ann for Ann Sharon. Within the hour, the family was called to Mom's side as her stats were declining steadily on her own. We sat with her in those last moments cheering her on.
Sharon's service was on Feb. 2, the 4th anniversary of the death of her mother, my grandma Esther. Sarah was born on Sept. 10, Esther's birthday. I believe they both have enjoyed watching over her and Taylor. Knowing that Mom was always around, even if she wasn't here helped to quell the ache of wishing she was.
Sarah is facing the last FEW days of going to high school. Taylor is engulfed in a third year of college. Soon they both will be off trekking their ways in the world, and just like that it will be another 18 years since Mom gave up her earthly body, but she will never be gone.